Yeah, we’re back here again. Bear with me, okay?
I’m gearing up to revisit the question of Webcomics/Not Webcomics? with which I started all those months ago. In truth, revisiting this question’s been inspired by a few things. First, I’ve been conversing with folks I’d been thinking of as “webcomics artists” who, as it turns out, don’t really self-define as such. They see themselves more as minicomics artists who also share their work online. While having comics online is a way to reach a wider audience, it isn’t what they consider their primary delivery system and these artists don’t do anything particularly hypertexty. I empathize: I certainly do not consider myself a webcomics artist even though comics I’ve done are available online. I didn’t put them there, but they’re findable. (It’s the Internet. Everything is findable.)
It’s also been spurred on by looking at pictures of SPX this past weekend. It was a lot easier to get there when I was living in Delaware and presenting with ICAF (back when ICAF ran at the same time and place as SPX; it’s actually starting tomorrow in the Madison Building in the Library of Congress in Washington DC), but it makes me wonder a little. One of the things I liked so much about SPX (and MoCCA, to a lesser extent) was the amount of non-comics items made by people who do comics. Like fabric robots, for example. It’s something I’m more familiar with from zine fairs, but it’s that same “Hey, check out this cool thing I made!” vibe (Gary also mentioned this point in his SPX recap post). You get to meet in person the people behind the work. That’s something I don’t feel like I get in quite the same way with webcomics. (Not to say it isn’t there; it’s just different in that it’s mediated by technology—emails, blogs, comments, etc.—rather than a face to face conversation.)
So this week’s experiment was to find a webcomic (I’m using the term as broadly as possible here) in which I didn’t know anything about the creator and had to infer information from what I read. The link came via my friend Chris, who has an eye for such things. I wanted something where this sense of immediacy wasn’t there, and instead there was something more like discovery, where I had to dig in and read and click through different images to see what was going on.
Beginning in January of last year, Ordinary Things is, as creator Ozge Samanci describes it, “an online journal of my observations in the comics form.” It has a very interesting use of color and composition, so much so that some of the images look like collages (or, in this case, are collages). It is maybe autobiographic, maybe not. If yes, she is a Ph.D. student, not from the States, in Atlanta, GA recording journal entries as comics and then posting them to the web. If not, who knows? (I’m guessing yes, judging by the forum over on Transplant Comics, which kind of opened the door for me to check out a whole stack of other new-to-me webcomics, like Robert Sergel’s Idiot Comics).
I’m very fond of the website. I’m totally smitten with the artwork, and I have that decided preference for autobio pieces. It also reminded me of some of the more interesting issues about sequentiality; what do you do with pieces which are their own individual work but also part of a larger, longer narrative–even if that narrative is in journal form? It’s an interesting point and one that I think will set some groundwork for future conversations; is Ordinary Things a webcomic? I think it complicates the discussion in interesting ways, not the least of which is the means of production: they’re generally single-panel pieces created offline which are then reproduced via scanner or camera, and posted online. I experience this work the same way I’d experience a webcomic, but it’s certainly visually different from much of the other work I’ve seen in the months I’ve been posting here.
Here’s also, by way of conclusion, something of a taxonomy question: Does it matter? Does it matter what we call them? I’m thinking yes, given how this week’s column began, but I’m open to revisiting the conversation since I still think it’s murky and interesting.